


Breathing Room

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:11:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5988553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for the 2016 romancingmcshep fest</p>
    </blockquote>





	Breathing Room

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2016 romancingmcshep fest

When Rodney yelled his name with that underlying ring of urgency, John dropped the paintbrush onto the drop cloth and left the room at a run. They’d been retired for a while now, but you never forgot that particular tone—that combination of command-voice laced with the panic that said everyone was going to die if something didn’t happen fast.

He skidded into the living room, feeling the twinge in his knee and suppressing the thought that he was getting too old for this sort of thing. He pulled up short, however, at the very ordinariness of everything.

Light streamed in from the windows with that peculiar intensity that came from reflected snow. The rustic cabin had come a long way from the hunting lodge it had been when they purchased it a few months ago. A new wood stove gleamed in the middle of the room—Rodney had insisted on a modern one—and behind the ceramic door there was a cheery glow. Rodney had his own workstation set by one of the big windows that looked out on the snow-covered fields leading to the woods beyond. He was writing a sci-fi novel, and John had to admit, it was pretty good. Especially when John made him tone down the science gobbledygook and include more fight scenes. And blowing things up. An explosion was always good.

A pot of stew simmered on the stove in the kitchen, sending delicious odors into the air. The coffeemaker had a new pot brewing, and John bet it was that dark roast “Backdraft” that Rodney loved so well. The room looked exactly as he’d left it a while ago to start painting again, down to the dishes from breakfast still on the counter, which Rodney had promised he’d get to, but had obviously forgotten again.

There were no Wraith breaking down the door. No Goa’uld or Replicators threatening anyone. Hell, there wasn’t even a burst pipe. Rodney was simply standing in the middle of the room, clutching the cat to his chest.

John relaxed. “If it’s a spider, you’re on your own, McKay. You know how I feel about bugs.”

Rodney didn’t correct John as to the exact classification of spiders as arachnids, not bugs, which was John’s first clue something was very wrong. Instead, Rodney gently put the cat on the couch and pointed. 

Schrodinger, the fluffy orange and white cat they’d found as a kitten a few years ago, sat hunched on the couch with his paws tucked underneath him, his head and neck stretched out as he wheezed. As they watched, Schrodie gave a little cough.

“How long has he been doing that?” Rodney demanded, in a voice that had gone shrill.

John frowned, trying to remember. “I dunno. Maybe a week? I told you he was coughing some. You said to give him hairball meds.”

“This isn’t hairballs!” The finger pointing at the cat began to agitate wildly. “Look at him! Do you see how hard he’s working to get air in? The effort it takes to move his chest? Or how about the fact that every time he breathes his mouth opens a little. That’s not normal! That’s an emergency.”

“Shit. What’s wrong with him?” John moved closer to the couch.

Rodney knelt beside Schrodie, staring at him intensely. “I’m not sure. I think it’s an asthma attack. Cats have pulmonary inflammatory macrophages in their lungs, so they tend to react intensely to things. But it could be his heart. Why didn’t you tell me he wasn’t grooming himself?” The glare he shot John should have been lethal.

“Um, because I didn’t know?” Now that it he was paying more attention, the long fur did look a little ratty, compared to the shining fluffiness Schrodie usually maintained. He was a very handsome cat and he knew it.

“How could you not know?” Fury made Rodney practically spit the words. “Is he eating? Has he been leaving food in his bowl?”

John pictured the food bowls in his mind and realized the cat had been slow to clean up lately. “Not leaving food, but taking a while to eat it all.”

“How could you not pick up on that before? You know what a little pig he is!”

“Let’s assign blame later, Rodney. What do we need to do now?”

Rodney stood abruptly. “We need to get him to a vet right away. Oh God, you know how much he hates car rides. Where’s his carrier? Do we have any of that calming pheromone spray left?” He started toward the kitchen, where they kept the car keys, then turned around, snapping his fingers. “No, no, you go warm up the car. I’ll find his carrier.”

“Everything’s going to be okay, Rodney.” John looked around for his boots, having taken them off so as not to get paint on them. He spied them over by the door and slipped them on, taking his parka off the coat rack at the same time.

“You don’t know that!” The anxiety in Rodney’s voice reached a new pitch of sharpness. “Cats can’t take a lot of handling or stress when they’re open-mouthed breathing. Just the trip alone could kill him, to say nothing of the diagnostics.”

John paused in the act of putting on his coat. “He’s that bad off?”

“Yes,” Rodney snapped, “he’s that bad off. What part of ‘he might die’ did you not understand?”

It had been a long time since John had seen Rodney this intensely stressed. It brought back memories of working to impossible deadlines, of times when not thinking or moving fast enough could result in the deaths of everyone they knew and cared about. Rodney-in-retirement had been a much mellower person once the prospect of daily life or death situations had been removed. Rodney preferred a crisis to be fictional now.

If anyone deserved to have an idyllic retirement, it was them. They’d worked hard to get to this point. Frankly, it wasn’t how John had pictured their post-Atlantis years. After Atlantis had been grounded in the San Francisco Bay, John had fully expected them to return to Pegasus in due time. But the near miss with the Wraith invasion of Earth, combined with the destruction of the Chair in Area 51, had The Powers That Be rethinking the entire mission to Pegasus. In their mind, going to Pegasus had been a huge mistake, opening up Earth to dangerous threats without having given them hardly anything in return. Continuing to maintain a presence there was deemed a terrible waste of resources, and it only increased the odds of the Wraith coming to Earth. Rather than operate a distant base, it was far better to keep Atlantis close at home.

John, Rodney, and the others from the original expedition fought hard for the return of Atlantis to where she belonged, but in the end, they failed. Though Sam had been on their side, Woolsey hadn’t fought for it the way Sam might have done had she still been in command. For all the good it had done him. With Atlantis based on Earth, the need for a diplomatic head disappeared, and Woolsey had been transferred.

It hadn’t come as shock to John when he was replaced as well. Now based on Earth, there was no shortage of higher-ranking officers to serve as military CO to such a prestigious posting. Without the need to explore the Pegasus galaxy, ATA carriers were in far less demand. John had been given the option of staying on in a lesser position while someone of greater rank took command of his city, or take his retirement.

He’d chosen to retire.

The real shock was that Rodney had as well.

“I’ve had enough drama to fill a lifetime,” Rodney had huffed, standing at the entrance to John’s apartment, suitcase in hand. “Are you going to let me in or not?"

How could he say no?

Of course, the SGC hadn’t been entirely finished with either of them. There had been the occasional consulting jobs, and John had led some off-world training missions. Once he’d been ordered to the SGC to play lightswitch for some tech they’d found in one of Atlantis’s closed up labs. Even though Rodney had come with him, he hadn’t been able to make the tech work.

It was as though Atlantis had stopped speaking to him.

He certainly liked his salary much better as a consultant than as an officer. But even that had dried up when Rodney had come back from a mission gone wrong, an attempt to dial _Destiny_ against the expressed wishes of the Langarans, using body swapping stones to take over the bodies of key personnel on that planet in order to facilitate a risky plan. John had disliked Young before, and thought even less of him when he’d brought up John’s name as a means of tweaking Rodney’s nose. Not to mention, had the Langarans decided to press charges, Rodney might well be imprisoned on another planet right about now. The whole thing had left a bad taste in John’s mouth, and for once, Rodney had been in agreement. They’d turned down consulting gigs after that.

But damn it, the SGC _owed_ them. It was time John called in his markers.

“You grab the carrier, Rodney,” John said, taking his coat off again. “I have another idea about transportation.”

“We have to hurry,” Rodney yelled from the bedroom. His voice sounded muffled, as though he was looking under the bed or rummaging through the closet.

In the kitchen, John switched off the stove and the coffeemaker. He pulled out the catch-all drawer by the microwave, and thrust aside the extra batteries and rolls of duct tape until he found what he was looking for: the special communications device that allowed him direct contact with the SGC.

He was just signaling Cheyenne Mountain when Rodney stormed in the room.

“What are you doing? Why haven’t you started the car? Never mind, give me the keys. It has to warm up before we put Schrodie in it.” Impatiently, Rodney motioned for John to fork over the keys.

John held up a single finger in the universal sign to wait.

“You’re putting me on hold?” If John had thought Rodney sounded stressed and angry before, it was nothing compared to how volatile he was now. “You want me to wait? You know what? Forget it. Forget everything. I’ll drive him to the vet myself.”

“Hang on a sec, McKay.” The signal went through. “That you, Harriman? It’s John Sheppard. I need you to patch me through to Sam Carter on the _Phoenix_. Priority channel.”

Rodney opened his mouth but John narrowed his eyes and Rodney promptly clapped his jaw shut again.

“John.” There was a smile in Sam’s voice over the communication device. “How’s the weather in…” there was a pause while she checked her readings, and then she said, “What are you doing outside of Vancouver?”

“McKay and I are fixing up a cabin near the Cascades. You know how it is. I missed the fir trees.”

Rodney shot John a piercing look while Sam laughed. John didn’t know if it was because he was making a joke during an emergency or if it was because of the nature of the joke itself.

“Look, Sam, we’ve got an emergency here. We’ve got a patient in respiratory distress and we’re a good hour from the nearest—” John almost said ‘vet’ but caught himself in time. “Er, hospital. Could you give us a hand?”

“You’re asking me to beam you into an emergency room? John, don’t you think that’s risking exposure? Would it work if I put you down someplace inconspicuous? I can arrange for transportation to meet you and take you straight to the ER.”

John scratched the side of his face. He had to tell her. “Well,” he said, conscious of the drawl sneaking back into his voice after an absence of years, “we’re not exactly going to the ER.”

“Oh, let me have that.” Rodney snatched the device out of his hands. “Sam? Rodney here. We need to go to Atlantis.”

“What? Rodney, why on earth do you need to go to Atlantis? Exactly what’s going on there?”

“Because my vet is in Atlantis, or at least, she was the last time I checked. And because my cat is dying.”

“Rodney, I’d like to help, but I hardly think the SGC is going to be pleased if I beam you and your cat into Atlantis.”

John took the device back from Rodney. “So we don’t tell them. Come on, Sam. It’s not like the SGC doesn’t owe us. We _have_ saved the world a few times.”

“For every time you’ve saved the world, you’ve also disobeyed orders and broken half a dozen rules.” There was a note of exasperation in her voice.

“Yeah, but you love us anyway.”

“John, what do you think Colonel Watting’s reaction is going to be when you two show up without an invitation?”

“He’ll probably throw us in the brig,” John admitted. “I’m well aware the SGC was glad to see the backside of me when I retired.”

“You mean quit,” Rodney piped up. “You think people were glad to see you go? At least people liked you. Me? How do you think it feels to be voted Biggest Asshole by the new recruits?”

“You just misheard them, McKay. It was Finest Ass, not Biggest Asshole.”

Sam choked back a laugh at John’s remark. “You guys. Please, never change.” Suddenly becoming serious again, she asked, “Is he really in trouble? The cat I mean.”

“Yes.” Rodney’s reply was short and, to John’s ears, nearly heartbreaking. Rodney met his eyes over the communication device, and John held out his hand. Rodney took it.

“Very well,” Sam sighed. “I’ll do it. Are you ready to beam aboard?”

“No, wait! I’ll go get the cat. You wait here. Don’t move,” Rodney admonished, hands spread wide as if he could hold John in place.

“Not going anywhere, McKay.” John waited patiently while Rodney dashed from the room.

He returned with Schrodie in the carrier, the cat’s mouth opening and closing with every breath now.

“We’re ready, we’re ready,” Rodney said, pressing in close to John’s side. “Lock onto our signal and beam us up.”

Sam met them in the transporter room, looking as fine as ever. She ignored Rodney entirely to peer into the carrier at Schrodie.

“Aw, poor baby,” she said, reaching out to touch the grill of the cage. Schrodie murpled a greeting but it was raspy and wet. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Rodney thinks it’s asthma. We don’t know though. That’s why we need to get to a vet.”

“Our vet. Fast,” Rodney added. “So while it’s nice to see you again, Sam, we can catch up on old times later. Get us to Atlantis, stat.”

Sam nodded. “I’ve been in touch with Atlantis. Dr. Abbot is expecting you. We’ll talk when I pick you up on the return trip.”

“Thanks, Sam. I hope you don’t get in trouble for this.” John glanced at Rodney, expecting him to thank her as well.

“Do you _mind_?” Rodney’s face was pinched with worry. “Save the cat now. Niceties later.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I’ve been sweetly and innocently misinterpreting orders from the SGC since before you left Afghanistan.” She smiled at John and turned to touch Rodney lightly on the arm. “I hope he’ll be okay, Rodney.”

Rodney’s face rippled as Sam’s concern broke through his armor of imperiousness, causing his features to crumple as fear for the worst overtook him.

John took him by the arm. “Breathe, Rodney,” he said, steering him back into place for transportation.

Sam stepped back and signaled the transporter operator. The beam dissolved the room around him, and the Gateroom in Atlantis formed in front of their eyes.

The Gateroom. He hadn’t been there in years, and yet it felt like the very first time and every time since then. There was that curious feeling of warmth and welcome, a sense of something stirring into wakefulness at his presence. Light poured in from the colored glass windows, and not for the first time, it reminded John of a cathedral. It was the only ‘church’ he’d ever felt comfortable in.

Just like back at the cabin, the light was from the whiter end of the spectrum. That’s right. Atlantis was in Antarctica now, the San Francisco bay being no place to hide an alien city/starship for very long. It felt fitting somehow, a full circle. He wondered if Atlantis was happy here. If she appreciated the long silences and bleak landscape as much as he had.

What a crazy-ass thought.

Dr. Sarah Abbot came down the stairs at a run, charging up to them. Her German Shepherd, Hawkeye, was at her heels. Like Sam before her, she paid no attention to either him or Rodney, and immediately bent down to look at her patient.

“Give him to me,” she said, speaking with the kind of authority John had seldom heard her use in casual conversation. “I’ll take care of him.”

Hawkeye, delighted to see an old friend, whined excitedly and bounced around John’s feet. He petted the dog’s head, noting that despite his youthful vigor, time had not stood still. Hawkeye’s muzzle had greyed since John had last seen him, and when the dog turned his head to look up at Sarah, John caught the bluish haze of cataracts. It suddenly occurred to him that he’d been gone from Atlantis longer than the years he’d spent there. How was that possible? It shouldn’t have been possible. Atlantis was his home. He and Rodney belonged here. They’d always belonged here.

Rodney passed the carrier to Sarah, but as he made to follow her, she shook her head. “This is going to take a while. I’m going to put him in an oxygen-rich environment and start him on a bronchodilator. Once his breathing has improved, we’ll try diagnostics, but we have to stabilize him first. You made the right call getting him here so fast. I’ll contact you when I have something to report.”

She glanced up at the command deck, where Colonel Watting stood fists akimbo staring down at them.

“I’ll just be heading to the infirmary now,” Sarah said, choosing to take a different route than the one by which she came, one that conveniently let her by-pass the CO. She whistled up the dog, who looked torn between following her and staying with John. After a quick lick of John’s hand, Hawkeye trotted off after his owner.

Evan Lorne and an armed party of Marines walked up briskly. Lorne motioned to them to stand down, and they fell into positions of alert watchfulness on either side of him.

“Look at you,” John said with a smile. “I see they finally promoted you to Lt. Colonel. Congratulations, Lorne. You deserve it."

“Colonel. I see you made full bird before you retired.” Lorne’s grin was as boyish as ever. “I thought I felt an awakening in the Force. What brings you and Dr. McKay here? Colonel Watting is mad enough to spit nails.”

“Speak of the devil,” Rodney said, not so very quietly.

Watting was coming down the stairs at a good clip. He definitely looked pissed.

Beside him, John felt Rodney bristle up. “Let me handle this, McKay.”

Rodney subsided, but his fists remained clenched at his side.

Watting was a spare man, with thinning hair and a handlebar mustache, no doubt as compensation. Right now, his moustache practically quivered with indignation. He’d replaced John as CO, was supposed to have a very strong ATA gene, and was very much by the book. He had a reputation for being a hard-ass.

“Sheppard. McKay.” Watting’s greeting was typical, without any acknowledgement of their titles or former roles, as if retirement had negated those things. “I know you think this city somehow belongs to you, but this is a military base. I don’t care who you think you were in the past, as of right now, you’re intruders into a classified complex. So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you shot on the spot.”

Rodney didn’t have to say a thing. John could feel him vibrating with the need to jump in and verbally pummel Watting. Any second now, Rodney was going to light into the Colonel about his intelligence, and his pathetic posturing, and his need to make them feel insignificant because Atlantis loved them better than trumped up tin soldier…

And then the answer hit him.

“Well,” he drawled, relishing the way his slow enunciation drove Watting to bunch his fists, “it’s kind of weird. You’re not going to believe me, but Atlantis called to me.”

“What?” Watting frowned, even as the manner in which Rodney whipped his head around to stare at John almost gave the show away.

“Yeah.” John scratched the side of his chin as though he couldn’t believe it himself. He had to avoid Lorne’s eye though; if he made eye contact, he’d surely lose it. “Weird, right?”

“Exactly how did the city make contact with you?” Watting’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I’ve been having these dreams. More intense every night. Like the city is trying to tell me something. You mean you haven’t been having them too?” John was all innocence.

“No.” Watting clipped off the word. “You’re telling me you used a priority channel to commandeer a transport onto my base because of a _dream_?” His hand came to rest on his holstered gun.

“You can’t feel it?” John let the barest amount of pity creep into his voice. “Wow. I thought surely you of all people…”

“What about you, Lt. Colonel?” Watting asked Lorne. “Have you sensed anything?”

“Well, sir, nothing specific, or I would have reported it. However, I’m not as strong an ATA carrier as Colonel Sheppard here.” Lorne just barely managed to keep the smirk off his face.

“I hear a ‘but’ there.” Rodney just couldn’t stay quiet.

“But I wasn’t just joking when I said I felt an awakening to the Colonel a moment ago. That’s what it felt like when you two beamed in. Like the city was waking from a coma or something.”

“Now look here, Sheppard,” Watting said, taking a step closer and poking John in the chest. “I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing here, but I won’t put up with any nonsense from you.”

“He just poked you in the chest.” Rodney’s eyes widened as he turned to John.

“Yeah,” John said.

“I can’t believe he did that.” Rodney turned his glare on Watting. “Are you suicidal or just monumentally stupid?”

That did it. They were sure to be tossed in the brig now. Even Lorne winced at Rodney’s words.

“Rodney,” John tried to intervene.

The lights went out. Well, not completely out because the brilliant sunlight outside still shone through the windows, but every electronic source of light in the city blinked out.

“What just happened?” Watting demanded, looking around and up at the control area. “Report!”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Rodney huffed. “You poked John in the chest. The city doesn’t like that.”

“Power’s out all over the city, sir.” Someone shouted down from the command center. “We’re working on it.”

“The _city_?” Watting wheeled on Rodney. “You’re trying to tell me the city is sentient? That it contacted Sheppard? That it’s throwing a hissy fit?” The look he raked Rodney with could have rivaled his own for sheer contempt. “No wonder they replaced you as lead scientist here.”

“Oh shit,” John murmured quietly.

A bolt of electrical energy crackled across one of the upper consoles, just as Rodney was about to lash Watting verbally. Someone yelped, but then shouted, “We’re okay, everyone’s okay.”

“I can’t deal with the two of you right now,” Watting snarled. “Lorne, take these men to the brig.”

From above, the sounds of chaos emanated, as personnel raised their voices to make their reports heard over the damage control alarms.

“Or you could just accept that maybe the city wants us here.”

No sooner were the words out of John’s mouth than the power came back on and the alarms died.

Watting chewed his lower lip while John looked innocently at him. “Did I see Dr. Abbot run off with a cat carrier just now?” he asked at last.

“We didn’t know how long we were going to be here,” Rodney said, the strong implication of ‘you moron’ hovering in the air. “I couldn’t get a petsitter at the last moment. It’s not like I’m introducing an alien species into Pegasus. We're still on Earth, you know. I gave him to Dr. Abbot for the duration of our stay. I figured she was best suited to care for him.”

John shot Rodney an admiring glance. He’d really gotten much better at lying over the years.

“I don’t even know why you’re here in the first place,” Watting growled, but he was definitely weakening.

“Atlantis will tell us all in good time,” John said, doing his best Teyla impression.

As if doing so conjured her up, Teyla emerged from a side corridor. On spying them, she didn’t quite run to meet them, but there was a spring in her step as she approached. “John! Rodney! It is so good to see you.”

John took her arms in the traditional Athosian greeting, pressing his forehead lightly to hers. “Teyla,” he said, his heart too full to say anything else. It had been too long. The SGC had been particularly unwilling to let Teyla and Ronon form new lives outside of Atlantis. While they had on occasion come to stay with John and Rodney for a while, eventually they’d gone back to the city. John felt guilty about leaving his friends behind, especially Ronon, who’d chafed at the lack of Wraith to kill, but what else could he do? The SGC had made it quite clear that if he and Rodney were unwilling to play by their rules, they weren’t welcome.

“Is Ronon around?” he asked, holding onto her arms for just a second longer.

“He has taken a group of new soldiers on a training mission,” Teyla said, giving them both her best smile. “He will be back this evening, however.”

John could only imagine what a training mission with Ronon in Antarctica would entail. The new recruits should count themselves lucky if they didn’t end up sleeping in the bellies of Taun-tauns.

“I don’t suppose our old rooms are available?” Rodney asked to the group at large. “Because we’re going to need a place to stay for the night. Maybe longer.”

“No, your old rooms aren’t available any longer,” Watting said. “As if the best rooms in the city would remain vacant on the off-chance you might come for a visit. We’ll put you up in the quest quarters.”

John hid his smile. He suspected Teyla sensed it anyway.

***

Rodney remained tense and short-tempered until Dr. Abbot had paged them and requested their presence in the infirmary.

“He’s having an asthma attack,” she confirmed when they answered her summons. “That’s the good news. I’ve started him on steroids, and he’s breathing easier now. It will take a few days before the inflammation in his lungs subsides, but the prognosis is good.”

Rodney’s relief was so profound, he slumped into John’s shoulder. John realized belatedly he should have given Rodney a power bar at least an hour ago. He’d just gotten out of the habit of managing Rodney’s hypoglycemia under stress. He should have known better.

“We need to figure out what triggered it though. If you can eliminate the allergen, then hopefully he won’t have to live on steroids and bronchodilators. Do you use heavily perfumed litter? Carpet freshener? Burn scented candles?”

“We have a wood stove,” John said.

“A state of the art wood stove,” Rodney corrected. “With excellent containment of the smoke. I selected it for that reason.”

“That could definitely be a factor,” Sarah conceded. “Regardless of how good a stove it is, burning wood is often a trigger in asthma in cats.”

“We’ve had the wood stove for a while now,” John said. “What about paint fumes? We recently started painting.”

Sarah snapped her fingers in a manner reminiscent of Rodney. “That’s definitely a possibility. Okay then. You need to keep him out of the cabin until you’re done painting. Once he’s stable, I’ll send him home on steroids, but hopefully at some point we can wean him off.”

After Sarah had left them, John gently steered him toward the mess hall for some food.

Dinner with Ronon and Teyla had been like Old Home Week. They’d laughed, and talked, and drunk beer, and eaten food until well after the mess normally shut down for the night. Torren had grown unbelievably tall and sturdy since John had seen him last, and they’d made much over him until he went off to bed. Former members of the expedition that were still in Atlantis stopped by their table to reminisce, but there weren’t as many as John would have liked to have seen.

Watting stopped by their table too, wanting to know if Atlantis had ‘said’ anything else to John. A perverse little imp made him say that Atlantis refused to say what was on her mind until others from the original expedition had been recalled. He knew he’d never see Elizabeth, or Heightmeyer or Grodin again, but it amused him to make Watting call back the likes of Radek, Miko, and Carson-the-Clone.

“What are you up to, Sheppard?” Ronon asked when Watting had stalked off with that poker-up-his-ass gait.

John just grinned. “Maybe I just want a little family reunion. So sue me.”

“Whatever Atlantis has to share with you must be very important if the city has broken its silence after so long.” Teyla lifted her steaming mug of tea and sipped from it.

“Uh, about that, Teyla.” John winced a little. “See, we’re really here because Rodney’s cat is sick.”

“Your cat too,” Rodney said.

“Mine too,” he agreed. “The point is, I just pretended Atlantis had a message for me so that Watting would let us stay.”

“Worked too,” Ronon said.

Teyla frowned delicately. “But the city reacted to his ungracious treatment of you.”

John leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow along the back as he’d done of old. It was so natural, so familiar, he almost didn’t realize he’d done it. “Sorry, that was just a coincidence.” He turned to Rodney. “If you could've seen the look on your face, McKay, when he suggested you weren’t a real scientist.”

He expected Rodney to either snort with derision or implode with rage, so he was surprised when Rodney merely toyed with the fork on his empty plate.

“Rodney?”

He looked up. “Oh sure, we might have come here because of the cat, but don’t you find the timing of the power outage just a little suspicious? They couldn’t find the reason for it on diagnostics, either.”

“Weren’t you always the one who thought the idea of the city speaking to Sheppard was stupid?” Ronon asked. “What did you call it? ‘Whoo-whoo’?” Ronon waved his hands about in a recognizable imitation of Rodney on a rant.

“Be that as it may,” Rodney said, with only the slightest sour tone, “you can’t deny that the city and John had a special kind of relationship at one point. Doors opened for him—”

“Except when we were all under quarantine,” John corrected.

Rodney continued with a sideways glare. “Doors opened. Doors locked. Hallways lit up. We found stuff when John was with us that no one else had ever run across. The tech loved him.”

“It was the gene, Rodney. Come on, you’ve always said that.”

“And you always told me differently. You said the city welcomed you when you returned, and sometimes you woke up in the morning with knowledge you hadn’t had the night before.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is.” John shrugged a shoulder. “Pilots are a superstitious lot. We give our planes names and talk to them.”

“You are hurt because the city stopped talking to you when we landed on Earth,” Teyla said, setting down her tea. “Oh, John. Could you not see the city itself was hurting? I know the adjustment for me and my family was enormous.”

John remembered. Could picture Teyla’s look of shock when days became weeks and still there was no indication that they were ever sending Atlantis home. Ronon’s angry restlessness, the pent-up frustration of a caged tiger when it was announced that there would be no more incursions into the Pegasus galaxy. When the Wraith or the Replicators were brought up, TPTB merely said, “Alternative measures for defense are being considered.”

John realized he was still angry, even after all this time, but there was very little he could do about it, then or now.

Teyla had finally accepted it, knowing she would probably never see the majority of her people again. As though reading his thoughts, she said, “It has not been all bad, you know. Torren has been able to grow up without fear of the Wraith. Some would consider that a precious gift.”

“You know as well as I do, Teyla, it’s just a matter of time before they come here too,” Rodney warned.

The look on Teyla's face was what John had come to call her 'teach a granny to suck eggs' expression, but she said nothing.

"Yeah, but then you two just went with it, so what were we supposed to do?” There was banked fire in Ronon’s voice. John hadn’t realized Ronon was not only angry with the command decisions, but with John and Rodney as well.

He should have guessed.

“Well, we’re here now,” he said, not entirely sure why. It wasn’t like anything had changed. “Think of it as us being on vacation.”

“A really long vacation,” Rodney snorted.

“There must be some reason why you told Colonel Watting that Atlantis wanted to impart something to you. Are you sure that this is not the case?”

He hated how hopeful she sounded. “Sorry. I just took advantage of the situation.”

“As usual,” Rodney added. “Because you are the Colonel Who Gave No Fucks.”

John spit his beer across the table.

Lorne was walking over just as it happened. He must have seen it coming because he ducked behind Teyla’s chair, missing the worst of the spray, and joining in the laughter.

“Aren’t you worried Watting will think you’re fraternizing with the enemy?” John joked as he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.

Lorne's smile was a little pained. “Probably not a good idea,” he admitted. “I just came by to give you your room assignments.” He handed John a slip of paper. “I’m supposed to send an escort for you two, but I figure you know your own way.”

“Oh, sit down, Major,” Rodney said. “Catch us up on all the gossip.”

“Colonel,” both John and Lorne said at the same time. Everyone laughed again, except for Rodney, who was a little slow to figure out why.

“Sit down, sit down.” Rodney waved toward a chair. “What’s Parrish up to these days?”

Lorne’s typically cheerful expression shut down as effectively as a portcullis slamming to the ground. “David’s been re-assigned. Not much call for a botanist in Antarctica. Goodnight, sirs.”

And with that, he left them.

“Well crap,” Rodney said, the corners of his mouth pulling down. “I didn’t mean—”

“Of course you did not,” Teyla said soothingly.

“You weren’t here. You didn’t know.” Ronon caught John’s eye and held his gaze.

“We should probably call it a night, guys,” John said, straightening in his chair.

“On that note, I’d say so,” Rodney grumbled. He stood and stretched. “Breakfast in the morning?”

Everyone agreed.

John ushered Rodney out of the mess with a hand on the small of his back. When they came to a fork in the corridor, Rodney stopped and faced him. The bubbling column of colored fluid cast a blue light on his features, making him look paler than normal. “May we go see Schrodie?’ he asked in an uncharacteristically small voice.

“You don’t think it will excite him too much?”

“I need to see him.”

“Sure.”

And then, just because he could, because he was the Colonel Who Gave No Fucks, he took Rodney’s hand.

The Stargate Project? Probably cost a bazillion dollars.

The energy needed to send an expedition to the Pegasus galaxy? One ZPM.

Holding the hand of your best friend and lover as you walked through the halls of an ancient city that doubled as a spaceship? Priceless.

Funny how all the blue columns of water turned pink about that time.

***

Hawkeye greeted them at the entrance to the lab when they arrived, as excited as if he was seeing them for the first time in years. Across the room, they could see that Sarah was sleeping in a chair, her head back against the rest, her feet propped up on her desk, mouth hanging open. A faint snore emanated from her direction. Schrodie slept on a cushion in a nearby cage, but he lifted his head on their arrival.

John hushed the dog, stroking his head and silky ears. Despite not having done field work in a while, the shepherd remembered the command, and contained his enthusiasm. He followed them eagerly but quietly as they approached the cage.

“Oh, he looks much better,” Rodney said with patent relief.

It was true. The cat stood up on his tip-toes to arch his back, and then stretched, extending his front legs first and then each back leg one at a time before he sat alertly at the cage door with his tail wrapped around his feet. Now that he knew what to look for, to John’s eye he was still breathing a little hard, but nothing like the effort he'd maintained that morning.

“Yeah,” John said. He still felt guilty though. When Rodney was writing he was pretty much oblivious to everything else and relied heavily on John to take care of things at the house. He’d almost fucked up big time here.

Schrodie gave a wheezy meow, and rubbed his face against the cage door. Rodney stuck his fingers through the bars and scratched his head. “We’ll come back tomorrow,” he promised. “You get better now, you hear? Oh crap.”

“What?”

“Do you even think they have cat food here? I mean, we left in such a hurry, and I wasn’t even thinking about the fact he wasn’t going to a vet clinic…”

“It’ll be okay, Rodney.”

Hawkeye escorted them to the door and remained behind when they left, as though there were some invisible force field keeping him there. John looked back as they walked down the hall, and smiled when the dog’s ears drooped in a friendly manner and he wagged his tail.

“This is your room,” John said, peering down at the slip of paper Lorne had given him.

“They put us in separate rooms?” Rodney was indignant.

“Well, they can’t exactly assume, now can they?”

“Let’s see how big the bed is. If they’ve given us those microbeds that not even a child could sleep comfortably on—” Rodney reached for the lock but the door whooshed open before he could activate it. He gave John a knowing look.

“Hey, don’t look at me.” John held up his hands in mock protest. “I didn’t do it.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Rodney sniffed as he entered the room. The lights came up without activation as well, revealing smallish quarters with a decent-sized bed. “Jeez, I think the cabin was warmer than this. It’s freezing in here.”

Rodney went to the window and pulled back the curtains. There weren’t as many lights burning in Atlantis as John remembered from their days in Pegasus, and parts of the city looked shut down, but it was just as beautiful as ever. Rodney touched the glass briefly. “Looks like they’re using the shields to protect the occupied areas of the city from the elements. That doesn’t take as much energy as holding back a wall of water, but still…”

“If the city were in Pegasus, they wouldn’t have to waste energy on shielding.” John finished his sentence for him. He joined Rodney at the window, pressing in close from behind so he could fold Rodney into his arms.

Rodney leaned back into him with a sigh, placing his hands over John’s arms. “God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us. I’ve missed the people we used to be when we were here.”

“We haven’t changed that much.”

“Says the man who still has his hair.”

“You still have hair.”

“Not as much. Of course, there’s not as much of me, either, so that’s a good thing, right?”

“The stress was killing you,” John agreed. Rodney had dropped the weight he'd picked up during the Pegasus years, now that not every day meant making life or death decisions for all.

“I’d handle it differently if I had to do it again,” Rodney said. “I’ve learned that much from you and Teyla. Even Ronon."

“Would you do it again?”

“In a heartbeat.” Rodney didn’t hesitate. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t that he didn’t love the life he had with Rodney now, but Atlantis why he had that life. Had taught him who he really was. Had made him value that person.

And he missed it.

Rodney turned in his arms, eyes suddenly wide and distressed. “Oh hey, I’m sorry I was such an ass to you earlier today.”

“You’ll have to be more precise,” John said, and pretended to shield himself from Rodney’s blow.

“Funny,” Rodney said. “I’m trying to apologize here. Can you be serious for a moment?”

“Rodney—”

“No, hear me out. I was a complete jerk about Schrodie this morning but it was because I was so scared. And because I was mad too—mad with myself. I’m the experienced cat owner here, not you. I should have paid more attention when you said he was coughing. When I realized he was in big-time trouble, and help was so far away…”

“Hey.” John pulled Rodney in for a hug. “It’s okay.”

Rodney shook his head against John’s shoulder. “No it’s not.” His voice was muffled.

John took a deep breath. It was time to confess.

“Um, Rodney. About that time when I was gated into the future…”

Rodney pulled back a little so he could look into John’s face with one eyebrow raised suspiciously. “Yes…?”

“Well,” John said, noticing his drawl was even more pronounced than usual. “I might have exaggerated a bit when I said you didn’t have any hair.”

“What?” Rodney’s expression lit up for a moment, until he realized the implications of John’s words. “Oh my god, you are such an asshole. I can’t believe you let me think I’d be bald as an old man.” He pinched John viciously just above a nipple, digging in his fingers and twisting.

Okay, so he deserved that.

“Yeah, well maybe I thought you’d be less stressed about losing your hair if you knew it was a done deal.” He rubbed his chest, wincing. “I’ll tell you one thing. That whole experience made me realize something.”

“What?” Rodney was still pissed. He stood with his back to the window, arms folded across his chest. It was such a typical Rodney-pose, and yet one John hadn’t seen in far too long. It reminded him all over again what it was about the madness and excitement that was Pegasus that made him fall for McKay.

“It made me realize I wanted to grow old with you.”

The shift of expressions on Rodney’s face was almost comical. He did a classic double-take, complete with dropped jaw and boggling stare, and then his mouth curved up into his delightfully crooked smile. There were more lines on his face than the last time they’d stood together in Atlantis, but that’s exactly what John had wanted. This.

Rodney took his face by both hands. “You idiot,” he said, pulling him in for a kiss.

Both of them were a little weekendish-we’re-at-the-cabin stubbly, and Rodney hummed his appreciation for that fact into John’s mouth. What started out as a light kiss of affection suddenly turned hungry.

One of the nice things about being in a long-term relationship was that you knew your partner well. You knew his likes and dislikes, what turned him on and what made him wild. Though the longer you were together, things were less often wild and more often comfortable. Hunger and need were gradually replaced by the familiar and reassuring. There were trade-offs there. Maybe the sex was less exciting but it was more rewarding. You knew where you stood with that person, for better or for worse. So maybe you couldn’t remember the last time you got thumped up against the wall, or the two of you tore clothes off each other and went at it in the hall, never even making it into the bedroom. It was worth it when you woke in the middle of the night, conscious of the person sleeping next to you, and how very lucky you were. It wasn’t realistic to expect things to be like when you first fell in love.

Only tonight it was.

Whether it was fueled by the earlier crisis, or triggered by being back in Atlantis, Rodney came at him the way he had when they’d first begun sleeping together, when they staggered back to the city after a terrible mission, taken one look at each other, and had begun pulling off clothing. A determined Rodney was impossible to resist, and John had given in without a whimper back then. It felt the same now as it had then, the onslaught of Rodney’s lips and hands causing him to growl and kiss and tug at clothing until they were both half-dressed and pressed up against the wall.

“Break in the new bed?” John asked, breaking off a savage kiss to nip at Rodney’s ear.

Rodney pushed him back, panting a little. “By all means,” he said, taking hold of John’s belt and pulling him, half stumbling and laughing toward the bed.

***

John’s eyelids flew open. There was never any question of where he was: he was in Atlantis, lying next to Rodney. Without looking at his watch, he knew it was 05:45, the time he’d normally have woken when he was stationed there. There was no need for him to get up, and he could already feel himself getting drowsy again, sinking into Rodney’s warmth.

This was great. He couldn’t think of anything better than waking up early and then realizing he didn’t have to get up. Well, okay, he could think of a few things better. A smile spread over his face as he thought about the evening before. If he’d thought the sex between them had been getting a little predictable, he should have just been patient. Last night had been spectacular. He’d just go back to sleep for a little while, and then when it was less likely Rodney would tear his head off for waking him, John would treat himself—and Rodney—to one of his favorite things in the world—the morning blow job.

Life was perfect.

The only thing that would make it more perfect was if it could continue just like this. Only back in Pegasus. With the former expedition members around him. Oh sure, maybe a few less Wraith and no Replicators whatsoever, but for the reason they'd gone to Pegasus in the first place—the exploration. Finding cool stuff. Having adventures. That would be awesome.

Sam could collect all the key personnel and bring them to Atlantis. She probably would want to stay with her command, after all, she’d only been in Atlantis a short while.

They could even invite Jeannie and her family this time.

He drifted back to sleep.

***

“Rodney?”

“Hmpf?”

“What are you doing?”

A pause, and then, “If you can’t tell, then I’m obviously doing something wrong.”

John arched a little and placed a hand on the back of Rodney’s head, carding his hair. “I didn’t say stop. I was just asking.”

“I was in the middle of one of my favorite activities in the whole world,” Rodney said, his breath ghosting John’s shaft, making him shudder.

“No fair, I was going to blow you.”

“I won’t say no to that. How about at the same time?” Rodney began crawling up toward John’s head.

“Fucking genius. That’s what you are.”

“In more ways than one. I keep saying that, you know, but so few people believe me.” Rodney said, turning so as to straddle John.

***

“Rodney, wake up.” John slapped Rodney on that magnificent ass.

Rodney flinched, then gave a little wriggle into the bedsheets, pushing his bottom ever so slightly into the air.

John laughed, and slapped him again, though not as hard as Rodney obviously would have preferred. “Maybe later,” he said. “We need to talk.”

That made Rodney lift his head with a slightly worried expression. “Those are never good words to hear.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Get dressed. We’ll see.”

In the end, however, he decided to wait until after breakfast to talk, wanting to include Teyla and Ronon in on the conversation as well.

“We’ll need protective gear,” John said, once he had them all together.

“I’ll get it,” Ronon said, and loped off to collect what they would need.

“You know, Teyla,” John said into the silence that followed, “you’ve handled this whole ‘stranded-on-an-alien-planet thing much better than Ronon has.”

Teyla gave an eloquent little shrug. “Where could Ronon go? He had no way off this world. He could have left the base illegally, and been a hunted man again. I believe he preferred not to do that. As for me, your people have an intelligent saying, ‘do not cry over split milk.’ I have found it useful to reflect on that.”

“Yeah, I guess so. No point in railing against what you can’t change.” It had certainly been a factor in John’s capitulation when Atlantis was taken from him.

“I have also noticed that the people most likely to use that phrase are referring to someone else’s milk and not their own.” Teyla’s voice was deceptively mild. She glanced back and forth between Rodney and John. “Are we going outside?”

John shook his head. “Not outside, but into a part of the city that’s been closed off, so it will be just as cold. No wind or snow, though.” He turned to look at Rodney. “Can you get us in without C&C noticing?”

Rodney laced his fingers and thrust his hands out in front of him, palms out for maximum stretching. “You do know who you’re talking to, right? Let me at the controls.”

Ronon came back with snow gear and a set of radios. “Thought we might need these.” His grin was feral as he passed them out.

“So tell me,” Rodney said, as they were getting geared up, “exactly why are we doing this again?”

“Atlantis wants to show me something.”

Rodney shot him a sharp look, one part disbelief with two parts excitement and curiosity. “Wait, I thought you said that was all bullshit.”

John shrugged. “What can I say? I woke up this morning and I knew we had to go to this part of the city.”

“When you woke up this morning?” Rodney’s eyes narrowed. “The first time you woke up, or—”

John silenced him with a glare. “Are we doing this or what?”

“Do it,” Ronon voted.

“Yes.” John could hear in Teyla's voice the longing for the people she’d left behind in that single word.

“Follow me,” he said, moving out.

Rodney was practically vibrating as John led them a portion of the city that had been deemed unnecessary to maintain, walled off behind the shields to save energy. Even though they were still within the shield, it was much colder in this sector, and John was glad for the heavy winter parkas and gloves.

Rodney stuffed his gloves into his pockets and looked around abruptly, as though expecting to find his usual bag of tools nearby. “I’m going to need—”

John opened a knapsack and pulled out a tablet and some cables. Rodney’s eyes lit up. “Yes. This.”

He got to work connecting the tablet to the door panel, keeping up a running commentary all the while. “First I need to get into the system. Hah, as though they could keep me out. Interesting firewall, pity they don’t know I worked on the design. Ooh, a second layer… only when you are part of the team who works on the software, you create backdoors… and we’re in! Now I need to create a feedback loop that will make the sensors think this part of the shield is still intact, while also creating a window through which we can enter and exit. We’ll want to make sure we can get back in, after all.”

He propped the edge of the tablet against his chest and held it there with one hand while he typed with the other. “How long do you think this will take?” he asked, looking up at John.

“Not long.” John wasn’t sure how he knew but he just did.

“Okay, then I’ll set the door to reopen in a half hour. If we need more time, we can reset the cycle.”

After pressing the final button, he carefully set the tablet down on a nearby console, and put on his gloves. The door locks went through a cycle of color changes, moving from red to amber to green. A click and a whoosh of sound greeted them.

“Oh man,” Rodney said, pulling the hood of the parka up over his head. “And I thought it was cold before.”

Rodney was right; the air on the other side of the door was beyond frigid—it actually hurt to breathe. John could suddenly sympathize with Schrodie. A sense of unhappiness struck him, and it took him a second to realize it wasn’t coming from him.

It was coming from the city. The freaking city. On some level he’d known the city was more than just a ship, more than an alien construct of crystals and conduits, but there was a big difference between talking to the city as though it understood you and getting actual acknowledgment. Why now?

Why him?

“Face masks and radios. Zeta channel,” he said, and everyone pulled up their masks. Together they stepped through the opening.

A thin layer of frost covered the walls and floors. They left faint footprints as they moved down the corridors. Though the hallways were not lit, some ambient light came in from small, high windows.

“Be careful,” Teyla warned. “The floors are quite slick.”

“Do we even know where we’re going?” Rodney asked, a hint of complaint overriding his curiosity for the first time.

“Down here.” John led the way.

The corridors had that eerie, abandoned feel that had greeted them the first time they’d come through the gate into the city, and now, like then, lights clicked on at their passing.

“Is anyone going to notice the shift in the power grid?” John asked.

“Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. If Chuck is working, yes.”

“If Chuck is on duty, I would not worry too much. He knows the two of you are in the city, yes?” Teyla’s question sounded innocent enough.

“Are you saying people expect crazy things to happen when we’re around?” John looked back over his shoulder to see Teyla’s serene smile.

“Either way, we should hurry,” Rodney suggested.

John pulled up short in front of a closed door. The hoarfrost on the panel beside the door prevented them from reading the designation. Ronon tried scrubbing it away with the side of his hand, but it didn’t matter. John didn’t have a map of the city, but they were in the right place, he just knew it.

“Give me a sec and I’ll figure out how to open the door,” Rodney said, pulling off his gloves.

It wasn’t necessary. The door opened with a gritty sound, getting stuck about two thirds of the way. John and Ronon threw their shoulders into it (well, mostly Ronon) and they pushed the door the rest of the way open.

“Remind me again how the city isn’t sentient?” Rodney said, pushing his way inside.

“Shut up, McKay,” John said, making sure he was close enough to Rodney to protect him from any possible booby traps.

As they entered the room, lights came on overhead and illuminated all the consoles too.

“What is this place?” Teyla asked, moving around the room in a slow circle. Her breath was largely contained by her face mask, but a slight amount of vapor escaped every time she spoke.

Rodney made a beeline for the main consoles, his gaze flicking over the panels while he checked them out without touching them. “Near as I can tell, it’s some sort of records room. Pity we didn’t come across this while we were here.”

John had the sneaking feeling Atlantis was able to hide and move rooms at will, not that he would ever say something like that out loud.

“Why are we here?” Ronon asked, getting to the point, as usual.

A console began beeping. Ronon whipped his gun out in a flash, then relaxed when a viewscreen lit up. Everyone watched Ancient text began scrolling rapidly across the monitor.

“Can you read that, Rodney?” Teyla asked.

Rodney stared at the screen intently, drawing a thumb repeatedly over his lower lip as he concentrated. “I think so. I’m not as good as Elizabeth was at reading Ancient, and I’ve gotten a little bit rusty, but it looks as though it’s referring to some sort of secret base, maybe? A new design?”

“Schematics,” John said, pointing at the screen. As he did so, a 3-D image of a spaceship appeared in the air over the console. The green light reflected off the frosty consoles, rotating slowly to show off the entire design.

It was a sleek ship, bigger than a fighter, but not as big as Atlantis, or even a Hive ship. Something about the design spoke reminded John of a destroyer—a scout ship with big enough teeth to defend itself if it got into trouble. Ships like that didn’t avoid trouble, either. They plunged headlong into it.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in years.

The schematics vanished, only be replaced with a winged figure bearing a sword in one hand. It too, was lit in green, and rotated slowly before disappearing.

“Nike,” John said.

“What is a nike?” Teyla asked.

“The winged goddess of Victory,” Rodney said. “Greek mythology.”

“Roman,” John corrected.

“Really? Well, the Romans stole all the best stuff from the Greeks.”

“Who originally got it from the Ancients. You know what this means, right?"

“I know what it means because I read Ancient.” Rodney sounded a bit put out John was stealing his thunder. “How do _you_ know?”

John just raised an eyebrow.

“Right, right.” Rodney sighed. “The city wanted you to know.” He stamped his booted feet in an attempt to warm them up.

“Know what?” Ronon asked.

“Yes,” Teyla added. From her tone, she was growing slightly tired of the John and Rodney show. “What does this mean?”

John shared a grin with Rodney before speaking. “It means we need to assemble the Avengers.”

***

“This had better work,” Rodney said in an aside to John as they watched Watting, Lorne, and a pair of Marines enter the mess hall three days later.

“It will work. Trust me.” John wasn’t quite as calm as he was pretending, but as always, it was good enough for Rodney, who was nervous enough for the both of them. “Is everyone here?”

“Everyone’s here that’s coming. Sam dropped off Zelenka and Carson this morning. That’s the last of them. I thought it wisest to give everyone a little bit of a heads up, just in case they needed to tie up any loose ends, so to speak.”

John nodded, not taking his eyes off Watting. There were a few faces absent, at least as far as he could tell. Well, it was only to be expected. Times changed. People had moved on. Still, there were a few he’d hoped to see…

“Jeannie?” he asked, noting how Watting scanned the room of laughing, chatting people. They acted as though they were at one big party. John supposed that it was. Well, he'd said he wanted a reunion party. A shrill squeal caught Watting’s attention, and John saw Miko throw her arms around Simpkins in happy greeting.

“Ah, Jeannie.” Rodney sighed. “Tempted. I think she was tempted. But in the end, decided no. But this is not forever, right?” He shot John a worried glance.

“If things work out like I expect, we'll be back. It’ll be okay, Rodney.”

"You know, I _do_ like my life at the cabin with you."

"Yeah. Me too. We can vacation there though."

Rodney gave a little nod, as though that was good enough.

As soon as Watting spotted John, he cut through the crowd with determination.

“You’d better have a good explanation for this, Sheppard,” Watting said, tossing a lethal glare in Rodney’s direction before locking gazes with John. “I think I’ve been exceedingly patient with you these last few days.” Watting indicated the room full of people.

“Finally.” Rodney nudged John with his elbow. “There’s Carson and Radek now.” He waved merrily.

Carson raised his hand in acknowledgment and the two men started forward, but got sidetracked greeting Teyla and Ronon among a cluster of other personnel.

“There’s no one here that doesn’t have the clearance for it.”

The Marines flanked Lorne and Watting like a pair of pit bulls waiting for the order to attack. Lorne’s face was curiously expressionless. Either he’d been read the riot act by Watting for being too friendly to his former CO, or else he was bugged by what had been going on the last few days as well.

“Be that as it may, Sheppard,” Watting snapped, “you’d better have a damn good reason for it. Enough of your stalling. I don’t want to hear anymore foolishness about ‘what the city wants’.”

He tried really hard not to smirk. He did. It’s just it was hard not to recall Watting’s mounting anger with every delivery of former expedition members, courtesy of Sam. He'd fumed over the fact that aside from the first few people on John's list, the others had simply shown up, stating they'd had word from John to come. Watting had threatened to have John’s guts for garters—Sam’s too—only every time he attempted to contact the SGC, something bizarre happened in the city. When the entire power grid went down, causing the temps in the city to drop precipitously within a matter of hours, he finally gave up. They hadn’t had any problems since.

“Oh look,” Rodney said in an oh-so-innocent voice. “Isn’t that whatisname? Parrish?”

Lorne’s head whipped around in the direction Rodney pointed. He jerked his attention back front and center almost immediately, but his cheekbones flamed.

“Right then. Looks like we’re all here. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

With a nod at Watting, John climbed onto one of the tables, put two fingers in his mouth, and whistled sharply. Conversation immediately died, and everyone turned to look at him.

“Listen up everyone.” It was both weird and weirdly normal to see all those faces so attentively turned toward him. No, he realized, it wasn’t that they were hanging on his every word, it was that they were all smiling. For once, the intense focus wasn’t because everyone was about to die.

“One of the nice things about Colonel Sheppard,” Rodney said a bit too loudly for it to be a true aside, “is that he wears his command so lightly.”

Underneath the deliberate jab at Watting, John could hear a true admiration.

It almost threw him off his stride.

“You’re all probably wondering why you’ve been invited here. I want to say upfront you’re under no obligation, but there’s a reason you were called. We were the members of the original Pegasus expedition. There is no other group of people on Earth with the same experiences we’ve had. We’ve lived through something terrifying and amazing, and we have the scars to prove it. There’s no finer group of people I’ve had the honor and the pleasure of working with. We are special. We are the Pegasus Expedition.”

A round of applause burst out, but it quickly died down when John raised a hand.

“Here comes my favorite part,” said Rodney.

“A few days ago, we discovered schematics for an Ancient spaceship previously unknown to us. Smaller than the _Daedalus_ , it appears to be tougher and more powerful. It has FTL capabilities, but doesn’t rely on a hyperdrive. The potential information within the design specs alone is enormous. But here’s the thing. We could take those specs and start building ships—as a matter of fact, I’m sure that will happen at some point—but we’re talking decades, maybe even longer, before we can see such a ship in action.”

He paused. Seeing that he had everyone’s rapt attention, he took a deep breath and continued. “We don’t have to wait, though. According to the databanks, there should be two completed ships on a deactivated base back in Pegasus. Two ships that we can go claim right now.”

An excited murmur ran round the room.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking. We’ve gone searching for things before based on ten thousand year old information and come up empty-handed. But the difference is this time, is that we’re not getting information from the databanks and running off with it. Atlantis wants to come too. She wants to go home.”

A cheer rose up from the room as people turned to one another and hugged or gave each other high-fives.

“What?” Watting practically screeched. “Are you insane, Sheppard? You don’t have the authorization to take this city anywhere. I won’t have it! Lorne, throw this man in the brig!”

Instantly, the lights in the room dimmed to half strength. A kind of crackling sound could be heard in the walls, and an overhead fixture exploded with a ball of blue light.

Interestingly enough, after the initial shock, no one in the room looked too alarmed. In fact, they looked as though they might intervene on John’s behalf.

“I don’t think it’s your call,” John said with a sad little shake of his head. “I’m pretty sure the city is going to insist. In fact, we weren’t given the location for these ships. I think Atlantis wants to take us there herself.”

Watting’s face took on an alarming hue. John was tempted to suggest he have his blood pressure checked, but he thought that would be pushing it. He climbed down from the table.

“Look, Colonel Watting,” he said, “contact the SGC. I believe you’ll be able to get through now. Rodney can give you the details as we know them, but the ship’s design is way beyond anything we have now and is everything we’ve been looking for. It’s the whole reason we’re in the Stargate business in the first place. If Atlantis wants to blackmail us into sending her home in order to give us the ships, then at the very least, it has to be considered.”

The lights came back up to full strength in the mess.

“Did I mention that we think there’s also a ZPM laboratory at this base?” Rodney turned to John questioningly. “We did mention that, didn’t we?”

“I was saving the best for last,” John said, and this time he could not hide the smirk.

“You will need people man the city and crew the ships, yes?” Radek asked, pushing into the conversation.

“And ship’s doctors too.” Carson was right behind him, followed by Ronon and Teyla.

“Sounds like you’ll need an expedition,” Cadman said, suddenly emerged from the crowd to stand by Carson’s side. “Who better than the people who know the city best?” She winked at Carson, who ducked his head and blushed.

Watting’s mouth worked like a cow chewing its cud before he finally spat out his words. “I’ll speak with Stargate Command. This isn’t over, Sheppard.”

“Give my regards to General O’Neill,” Rodney said. “Colonel Carter tells me he’s at Cheyenne Mountain at the moment.”

Watting stormed off without another word. The Marines looked a little confused, but at Lorne’s nod, trotted off after him.

“Gee, doc,” Lorne said, with a hint of a smile. “Are you sure that was such a good idea? The General’s not all that fond of you.”

“You know, Lorne,” John cut in before Rodney could sputter his outrage, “the ship’s specs indicate we’ll need a strong ATA carrier in command. I was planning to take one ship. I’ll need a commander for the other.”

The easy grin that had greeted them when they’d first arrived made a reappearance at last. “Sounds tempting, sir. Mighty tempting. But the SGC will probably have a thing or two to say about that.”

“So will Atlantis, I suspect,” Rodney said, no longer trying not to look smug.

“Well, these will be ships of exploration as well as defense,” John said. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to need some botanists on our teams.”

Lorne cast a wistful glance in Parrish’s direction, where he stood in conversation with former colleagues. As though Parrish could feel his glance, he suddenly looked up. To John’s eye, Parrish looked like a woebegone puppy left out in the rain.

“Speaking as a Colonel who gives zero fucks, I suggest you go over there and talk to him,” John said, giving Lorne a little clap on the shoulder.

“I agree,” Teyla said, with her beaming smile.

Lorne turned very red and slid a finger in his collar, tugging at it slightly. Ronon gave him a little push, and laughing, Lorne headed in Parrish’s direction.

John took Rodney’s hand and squeezed it. Rodney looked down in shocked surprise at the PDA, but didn’t let go.

“Are we really going back?” Ronon asked, unusually serious.

Everyone seemed to be listening in, wanting to know the answer.

“Yeah,” John said. “I think so.”

“Finally,” Ronon said, raising his fists to chest height and spreading his massive shoulders in a stretch. “Breathing room.”

~fin


End file.
